Page 12 of Outbreak (Revolution X #1)

CHAPTER 11

Ghost

I don’t know why I answered her question. I am supposed to be punishing her and not giving in to her incessant questions. But something about the way she panicked reminded me of the broken girl she used to be, crawling into my window at night to hide from whatever tormented her. I’ve seen her panic before. I’ve held her through it and let her get all of her worries and fears out of her system in the safety of my arms. Even back then, when I was just a kid who thought he knew everything about the real world but didn’t actually know shit, yet I knew what she needed.

I need to remember that this is the same broken girl I fell in love with when I was only thirteen years old, only for her to turn around and stab me in the back. She ripped my heart right from my chest and stomped on it with her black studded combat boots on my eighteenth birthday. My heart might be cold and dead inside now, but it still beats only for her. It still remembers what it’s like to hold her fragile little body and chase away her nightmares.

And now I’m supposed to be her worst nightmare.

Releasing her delicate little throat, I step back. I need to put some space between us before I turn her around and fuck her against my truck on the side of the road. We've only got a few hours before the sun comes up. I was wanting to be much further before we found somewhere to sleep, but I’ve been awake for so long; I need to get a couple of hours at least so I don’t fall asleep behind the wheel.

“Let’s go,” I say, picking her up and putting her back inside the truck. And because I’m feeling nice, I snap her loose handcuff onto the door handle this time; I don’t need her dislocating her shoulder if she goes into another panic attack.

“Where are we going?” She asks quietly once I’m back in the driver seat and pulling back onto the road.

“Right now we’re going to find some place to park away from the road and get some sleep,” I say, giving her more information than I intend to. “No more questions,” I snap, irritated that I let her get under my skin so easily, making me open up to her like she didn’t completely destroy me four years ago.

My tone catches her off guard. She flinches, moving away from me in her seat to hug her door. And now I feel like an asshole. Goddamn it!

I just need to get some sleep and refocus myself. I have a plan—a good one.

But it doesn’t mean seeing her like this doesn’t affect me. I want to rip the throats out of every motherfucker who’s ever hurt her and caused her to fucking flinch at me.

Taking a deep fucking breath and letting it go, for now, I navigate the truck into some relatively clear woods. I park far enough away from the road to not be seen by anyone passing by. I don’t speak again as I get out and start pulling out what I need.

First things first, I change out of these fucking clothes. I’m soaked to the bone in the dead man’s blood, though now it’s dried and crusty. What I really need is a fucking shower. Instead, I use some of our water to scrub as much of it off of my skin as possible, throw on fresh clothes, and grab our bed for the night.

My truck is already pretty much my home away from home with as much as I travel for work. Sometimes, sleeping in my truck is unavoidable, so you bet your ass I bought one of those blow-up air beds for the back seat. I work on autopilot, unfolding it and laying it out on the backseat, plugging it in.

Rue watches quietly from the front seat; thank fuck. I’m scared I’ll bite her head off again if she decides to come out of her panic with more sass. I just want to get some sleep and get back on the road.

The longer we are out here, the crazier shit gets. We need to get to the cabin and find out what is actually happening here. Reaper has connections. Hopefully he has some answers because I sure as fuck don’t. I feel like we’ve been dumped in a bad sci-fi movie with no clue what we're up against.

This is not how I wanted my reunion with my girl to go, but I’ll make the best of it. The important thing is she’s back where she belongs, whether she likes it or not. She’ll learn to.

Once the bed is aired up and ready to go, I grab my pillow and blanket from behind the back seat and throw it on top.

“You hungry?” I ask, going to the truck bed and lifting my cooler out. Putting the tailgate down, I sit the cooler on top and start taking out the sandwich stuff. I packed some easy shit in it before I picked her up.

I don’t wait for her to respond, making her a turkey and cheese sandwich with extra meat and light mayo. The bag of salt and vinegar kettle chips opening is loud in the silence of the night, and I see her turning in her seat to try and see what I’m doing. I carefully place a layer of her favorite chips on the sandwich, just like she used to do when we were kids.

My nose wrinkles at the vinegar smell wafting from the bag. They stink, but she loves them, so I’ve been buying them and eating them since I lost her. They’ve grown on me, but I still hate the fucking smell.

Pulling out some napkins from the side pocket on the cooler, I wrap her sandwich up and grab a bottle of water, walking around to her door. I can’t open it all the way because she’s still cuffed to it, but I open it enough to slip the things through. She stares at them for a few seconds before she takes it from my hand, sits them on her lap, and goes back to looking out through the windshield glass. I want to yell at her and shake some fight back into her. I hate seeing her like this, a shell of her smartass self. But I don’t trust myself with her right now. I don’t trust myself not to make it worse.

“Eat up. Then we’ll sleep for a couple of hours,” I say gently before closing her door softly.

Closing myself off from her right now is the best thing I can do. Our sleeping arrangement is going to be interesting enough. She’ll hate it, but she’ll get over it.